(perception) reality
by Twilight Zephyr
Summary: Tron is still adjusting to the User world. Tron/Sam


**Notes:** Written for the Tron Fandom Ship Week which is ongoing right now on tumblr. This is just my little contribution to both the fandom and my ship.  
**Title:** (perception) reality  
**Fandom:** TRON: Legacy  
**Pairing:** Tron/Sam  
**Theme:** reality  
**Words:** 1081 words

**(perception) reality**

The User world does not feel real to him. He is a part of it now, but there is a disconnect. There is no ever present hum of circuits. The directive written deep in his code hovers as a thought and memory in the back of his mind; present but not the driving force which keeps him going.

Instead, there is now a heavy beat in his chest and the rush of blood in his ears. Heat rushes upwards, blooming from where Sam's hand brushes against his. There is no static rush of energy – a heady burst of energy crackling along circuits. Instead, there is warmth. His fingers tingle and the almost overwhelming urge to grab Sam's hand rears in his mind.

The rush of sensation and sensory input when he first arrived in the User world still overwhelms him. There is so much to see, to take in, so much that is _**different**_ and he has no frame of reference. Everything feels old, there is permanence, but it lacks that feeling of familiarity and realness that Tron felt in the Grid. Nothing here is what he knows. Except Sam. Sam is all he knows.

He has faith in Sam. That is one constant, one thing that he can hold to and he does. He holds to it tightly and fiercely. Tron gives into that urge to take Sam's hand in his and does, he squeezes it tightly.

Sam turns, cocks his head a little. Confusion is in his eyes for the briefest moment; it flickers and then it's gone, replaced with warmth and love – something Tron had not thought or believed he could receive – and he smiles. He squeezes Tron's hand back.

Tron can still remember the first time. Where everything rushed in all at once – the sights, the sounds, not being able to sense everything and anything, not being part of a system, his lack of directive, the feeling of his _**heart**_ beating in his chest, the thought that he could bleed. It was all overwhelming and the ground spun, his knees gave out and he fell.

Sam had caught him then. His hands had been warm, strong, a support and a focus for Tron while his head spun and hurt. He couldn't take it all in at once – was this how User's functioned? How did they deal with it? His mind struggled to keep up with all of the sensory input he was receiving at once.

It was Sam's voice that broke through; over the too loud hum of the computers and the heavy sound of breathing.

"Focus, Tron, breathe. In and out. In. Out. Just breathe. Focus on that."

He did. He focused on Sam's voice, blocking out everything else until it was all he could hear. Breathing came next, when the burning in his lungs became too much and the thunder in his head too loud. Sam's breathing had been loud, ragged, in the air and he focused on that, trying to match his own to its steady rhythm.

Eventually, slowly, everything became less intense and quieted. Tron could breathe again, felt a little more like himself but, at the same time, not himself. Without a directive to follow, he floundered, but he held tight to Sam.

Sam was why he did this, why he chose this. He focuses on Sam and excludes all the other thoughts, suppresses the memories and pushes them down. He's surprised by how hazy and disjointed they are. For a few seconds, he worries that a virus infected him, that something went wrong and the transfer of his memories malfunctioned, but there are no scans to run here.

He let his head rest against Sam's chest, felt the steady beat of his heart and closed his eyes. He listened to it, feeling his own slowly calm until it was simply yet another piece of background static. It was still there, still a part of him, but quieter now and something he could avert his focus from.

Sam had held him for the long minutes that it took for Tron to adjust, feeling out this new body. It felt alien, it was not his, but it was and Tron hadn't been sure how to bridge that – he still doesn't know how. Perhaps it will come with time, when the memories fade away into a haze almost completely.

Even though it has been weeks since he first came, Tron still finds that things take him by surprise. He has a lot to learn; he's still trying to find what his limits are, what this body of his is now capable of. Sometimes he worries Sam, but this is something which he must learn on his own. He needs to learn to communicate and understand this body that is both his and not his.

Beside him, Sam is a constant presence and warmth, one that he knows. It's something. It comforts him and grounds him in the knowledge that, Grid or not, wherever Sam is is the place that he wants to be in. He closes his eyes, lets Sam lead them, and focuses on the warmth of their joined hands, the slight slickness from sweat, and the cool evening wind.

Tron ignores the despondence in his chest, that missing part of him that yearns for a directive. He is not a program any more but a User. He can change his directive at will. He can do what he wants, he is not limited by programming any longer. It's still a heady feeling.

If he wanted to, he could stop, could pull Sam back and against him. He could tilt Sam's face up, press their lips together and kiss him until they are both breathless. He doesn't, although it is tempting, but if he wanted to he could.

Instead, he focuses on the world around him. This world that he is still exploring, still learning about, still struggling to reconcile it with the idea that _**he**_ is now a tangible and real part of it; he can affect it and it him. Tron is now a part of this world, no longer a program. He is a User – a human, he lives, he breathes, his heart beats and pumps blood through veins. _**He is alive.**_

And yet, he feels disconnected – separate yet a part of it all at the same time. Sam keeps him grounded – is the _**only**_ thing keeping him so – and so he focuses on that. The User world may not feel like home, but perhaps, in time, it will.

**FIN.**


End file.
